Again--I shrewdly suspected that I was not the only watcher of Dr.
Stuart's house. The frequency with which the big yellow car drew up
at the door a few moments after the doctor had gone out could not be
due to accident. Yet I had been unable to detect the presence of this
other watcher, nor had I any idea of the spot where the car remained
hidden--if my theory was a correct one. Nevertheless I did not expect
to see it come along whilst the Inspector remained at the house--
always supposing that Zara el-Khala had not yet succeeded. I
wheeled out the "Indian" and rode to a certain tobacconist's shop at
which I had sometimes purchased cigarettes.
He had a telephone in a room at the rear which customers were allowed
to use on payment of a fee, and a public call-box would not serve my
purpose, since the operator usually announces to a subscriber the fact
that a call emanated from such an office. The shop was closed, but I
rang the bell at the side door and obtained permission to use the
telephone upon pleading urgency. I had assiduously cultivated a natural
gift for mimicry, having found it of inestimable service in the
practice of my profession. It served me now. I had worked in the past
with Inspector Dunbar and his subordinate Sergeant Sowerby, and I
determined to trust to my memory of the latter's mode of speech.
I rang up Dr. Stuart and asked for the Inspector, saying Sergeant
Sowerby spoke from Scotland Yard. "Hullo!" he cried, "is that you,
Sowerby?"
"Yes," I replied in Sowerby's voice.
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